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  suggested her answer had no importance at all, but she knew better.

  “Omitted,” she said. “Not nearly the same thing as lying.”

  Rick’s mouth tightened. “I’d like to talk to Maddie, Leena.”

  Oh, God. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I think it is. We have things to discuss, her and I.” He snapped his fingers, and the two goons who’d been standing behind him like statues vanished, presumably to go contact Maddie.

  Who was standing in front of him.

  “She’s probably pretty busy,” she said, trying to think over her panic. Brody hadn’t been kidding—her life was complicated. “You know, living her life.”

  “She’ll make time to talk to her family. To maybe visit if things don’t work out here during your visit, Leena.”

  Oh, shit. He’d just given her a whole bunch of information she didn’t want, such as if she, as Leena, screwed up, Maddie was going to pay.

  Well, no way in hell she was giving herself up to him. She valued her new life way too much for that. She valued Brody’s life too much for that, and she stepped even closer to her “husband.” For show, of course.

  But also for the sheer comfort in having him there, big and reliable, and at her side.

  On her side.

  He immediately tightened his grip on her, running his hand up and down her arm in silent comfort.

  He was here for her, right here. The marvel of that was never going to get old. “Why don’t I get to work,” she said. Before your goons go and find out that Maddie is standing right here in front of you.

  “You’re in a hurry?”

  “Well, I do have a honeymoon to get back to.” She leaned her head against Brody’s chest and felt the solid, comforting thump of his heart. “I’d like a charter here waiting for me when I’m done.”

  “All right.” Again, Rick’s gaze flickered to Brody. “The notes are in your workroom. And so are all the materials you’ll need.” He gave Brody another long, considering look. “I assume you’ll still work completely alone, without distraction, as you’ve always insisted. Maybe your husband would like to go back to Nassau and wait for you there. I can arrange for deep sea fishing or any number of activities—”

  “No.”

  This from Brody himself in a voice of steel. His eyes matched. “I’m staying.”

  Oh, crap. Why didn’t he just pee on her to mark her as his territory? Turning her back to Rick, she shot Brody a look of warning.

  He ignored it. “I’m staying with my wife.” He smiled down at her. Sweetly. Kindly. So much so that she had to blink.

  She’d seen him smile, of course. With genuine affection and amusement for Shayne and Noah, with triumph when he’d rebuilt any of a hundred different planes. And then there’d been that smile of wicked intent just before he’d put his tongue between her legs and taken her to a whole new world of pleasure just last night, but she’d never seen him smile like this. Like she was the love of his life. It was a bit . . . dazzling, and she had to remind herself that this was all for show. She turned to Rick. “He’s staying.”

  Looking none too happy about that, Rick nodded and gestured them inside. “Let’s get on it then.” He gestured to a new Muscle Guy, who had two inches on Brody and no neck at all and looked as if he was a steroid-for-life kind of guy.

  His name turned out to be Tiny Tim, and he led them into the foyer of the house. The décor had been updated and changed since Maddie had seen it last, now done up in a ritzy beachy decadence.

  She could hardly breathe. Everywhere her gaze touched filled her with memories—sliding down the front sweeping arch of a banister and hitting the huge white tiles in the great room where she’d broken her arm. Hiding behind the two marble sculptures and knocking one over. Pretending to be an ice skater in her slippers along that cool, smooth floor . . .

  Tiny Tim held up a hand to halt their progress and whipped out a metal detector. Okay, that was new to the Welcome Home process. Wielding the thing like a weapon, he walked around the back of Brody, or tried to, but Brody simply turned with the guy, keeping him face-to-face.

  “Looking for weapons,” Tiny Tim said and gestured for Brody to turn around.

  Maddie squeezed Brody’s fingers hard enough to bruise her own, and after an indescribable look in her direction, he indeed turned, facing her while the goon searched him for weapons.

  “Now face me,” Tiny Tim demanded. “Arms out.”

  With a grim tightening of his mouth, Brody turned, lifting his arms as directed, letting the guy thoroughly search him.

  Finally, Tiny Tim gestured him aside and turned to Maddie.

  Her turn, and she had a knife in her boot and a gun in her bag, both of which would light up the detector like a Christmas tree.

  Thoughts whirling with ready-made excuses, she held out her arms, but to her surprise, the guy set aside the metal detector and stepped close, a gleam in his eyes.

  He was going to pat her down by hand.

  Okay, this could work. Because unless he asked her to strip, he was going to miss the knife. But then he put his hands on her, and not exactly gently or with care for her personal space, and over his bent head, she locked gazes with Brody.

  Such temper shot from his eyes that she nearly flew backwards from its blast. He took a step toward her, and just like that, her life flashed before her eyes. Don’t, she mouthed.

  He stilled with obvious difficulty, his body tense enough to shatter.

  Oblivious to the silent battle, Tiny Tim stood in front of her, his meaty paws patting down her hips, her legs . . .

  Jaw ticking, Brody jammed his own fisted hands into his pockets, probably to keep them from closing around Muscle’s throat as Maddie continued to silently beg him to behave himself and stay still.

  Muscle didn’t so much as glance at Brody, but Maddie knew he had to be incredibly aware of the sheer fury resonating off of her “husband,” whose eyes were promising her that if Tiny Tim took this any further, he would take action.

  Oh, God. And what then?

  But Tiny Tim finally finished getting his jollies feeling her up and straightened as she took a breath. Okay. Okay, they were nearly done here—

  Except not, because then he settled those hands back on her waist, gliding them upward, heading with wicked intent toward her breasts.

  Brody’s eyes narrowed to slits, and he took another step toward him, but by some miracle, Tiny Tim’s phone chirped, and he turned away to answer.

  Maddie let out a slow, careful breath and took a quick glance at Brody, but before she could say a word, Tiny Tim turned back, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Follow me,” he said gruffly, not even glancing at Brody as he took them to the huge, curved staircase.

  Miraculously still armed, Maddie followed with Brody in the rear. She didn’t speak to him, mostly because she knew from living here all those years ago that the place was under surveillance. Most common areas of the grounds and house were under camera surveillance, with only the bedrooms and bathrooms off-limits.

  “Where are we going?” he asked, not knowing about the sound system, his voice filled with a lethal calm and absolutely no quietness or meekness about him.

  “To Leena’s room,” Tiny Tim said. “Where you’ll stay until you’re needed.”

  “And Leena?”

  “She’ll go to work.”

  Brody didn’t say a word, but his opposition to this plan practically bounced off the walls as if he’d shouted.

  Silent and doubting her own sanity, Maddie let Tiny Tim lead them up the stairs to Leena’s bedroom. The place was spotless, as always, and Maddie wondered if Rick’s housekeeper Rosaline still worked here. Once upon a time, Rosaline had been the sole soft spot in this entire place, always kind and gentle with Maddie and Leena, their only true female influence. Maddie wondered if it was possible that the woman had put up with Rick all these years . . .

  Next to her, Brody was taking it all in, the elegance and sophisticat